


Subtleties

by Sonora



Series: Striker Eureka 'verse [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Father/Son Incest, M/M, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:30:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4486722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonora/pseuds/Sonora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chuck always gets what he wants, and what he wants is Uncle Scott's dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subtleties

Chuck always gets what he wants.

If there was a theme to his relationship with his dad, that would be it.

_I get what I want._

Which is part of the reason why it’s so fucking irritating that Dad keep refusing to give in on this one little, silly, insignificant thing.

“No Chuck,” Dad growls at him as he wipes the room down. Straightens the lamps and remakes the bed. That fat Chinese fuck Ma had some rudimentary self defense skills, but this isn’t exactly _Hard Boiled_. Rudimentary kung fu or whatever doesn’t do shit against a .22. Still, Ma put up more of a fight than they’d expected, and he’d lasted long enough - twenty seconds - to make a right mess of the hotel room. “ No. If you want to go by for a barbecue or something...”

Chuck grins obscenely from the floor, where he’s processing the body. Uncle Scott wanted it to look mob-related. Ma had a lot of family and even more business contacts. Best if their grief is focused on, say, the Russian mafia, rather than the Hansen boys.

“I would like to eat Uncle Scott’s meat, Daddy,” Chuck says, and off comes another finger. And sure, he’s human, he grew up alone, he’d like to know his own family better than he does. Just getting to hang out with Uncle Scott might scratch the itch. But he can’t stop thinking about that explosive meeting a week ago, the fire in his uncle’s eyes, the promise of some real hard unrefined rough-ass sex in his words, and... yeah, okay, so he’s been wanking off to it.

Chuck just has so many ideas. So many fantasies. Dad, handcuffed to a chair while Uncle Scott fucks his dear nephew on the bed. Dad, giving direction. Chuck giving them both a nice little striptease, but not letting either of them touch until he’s good and ready. Putting Uncle Scott on his hands and knees and rimming him until he cries. Riding Uncle Scott hard, Dad in control of the remote to a vibrator jammed up Uncle Scott’s fine arse. Dad and Uncle Scott, fucking their baby boy at the same time, maybe trading spit over his shoulder at the same time...

Yeah.

He’s been thinking about the two of them kissing a lot.

Damn. That would just be so, so good.

Herc gives him that look, up over the top of a hospital corner he’s snapping on the bed. “He’s not gay.”

Like that’s a problem? Herc might not know it, but Chuck had plenty of supposedly “straight” customers back in the day; men who thought it didn’t count if it was with a prostitute, wasn’t a problem if nobody knew, or if they topped, or a whole bunch of other stupid shit like that. In fact, Chuck had liked those customers the most. The guilt had always been so delicious. 

“Bi, whatever, I can work with it.”

“You are not fucking your uncle.”

“Yeah, because it’s so bad, fucking your family members.”

Herc breaks out the handcuffs when they get back to their flat. And doesn’t let Chuck out until the next morning.

“Your choice, Charlie. You either mind your daddy and drop this Uncle Scott thing, or Daddy can start treating you like a baby.”

And okay, Dad’s holding up a diaper and an industrial-sized baby bottle, filled to the brim. They’ve played this game before. With a target. For an extra two hundred thousand. It wasn’t pretty. So of course Chuck agrees to never bring up Uncle Scott again.

But all that means, really, is that he’s not allowed to _ask_.

He can still go bloody _take_ if he wants, can’t he?

What’s his dad going to do? Spank him?

And shit. A spanking, in front of Uncle Scott? That’s another really lovely thought. Especially if Uncle Scott would cuddle him and rub some lotion into his sore skin afterward and...

Oh yeah.

He’s going to have it. Chuck Hansen gets what he wants, after all.

+++++

Scott knew this was going to happen, sooner or later. His nephew, shameless little wanker, showing up at his doorstep.

“Dad sent me to collect the payment.”

Scott also knew the kid was going to use that as an excuse. He’s not expecting the bag of bloody fingertips that Chuck holds up, every bit as dirty as that winsome smile, those fuck-me jeans the brat is wearing, but Scott can roll with that. 

In addition to his more legitimate pursuits, he launders money for some of the worst criminals in the Pacific Rim - his brother included. 

This is hardly the first time he’s seen severed body parts. 

It’s also not a very subtle approach. Obvious, really. Not that subtlety’s a Hansen trait, which does more to settle Scott’s mind that this boy is actually Herc’s spawn than anything else he’s heard so far. From Herc, or that fucking Brit Pentecost - who had nothing but nasty things to say about the pair of them, and weren’t Herc and Stacks old war buddies? - or any of the other people Scott’s spoken to here in Sydney.

The blunt, straightforward, dirty approach. That’s the Hansen way.

So Scott takes it now.

He leans on the jamb of his overlarge front door, taking his time as he takes Chuck in. Cute boy, barely out of his teens but filling out nicely into his adult frame. He’s thicker than either his daddy or his uncle are, built like a tank, but Herc’s clearly been training him hard. Scott’s willing to bet that the muscle under those ridiculously tight clothes is lean, the boy a right demon in the sack. No twink, this one, no; he’s like something out of a wet dream.

Oh yes. 

He has very much been looking forward to this moment.

Not that he lets that show.

“Is any of this supposed to shock me?” Scott asks blandly, and takes the bag from Chuck, looking it over. Ma was a fat fuck, wasn’t he? Even his fingers are chubby. How fat does somebody have to be to have fingers this chubby? “Other than your daddy letting his new little bitch off the leash for the night?”

Chuck bristles. “I’m not his bitch.”

“Right. Like Herc lets you top him.” 

“Oi, you wa-“

“Shut your trap, Charlie,” Scott snaps, and pinches one of the fingers through the bag. He wonders what happened to Ma’s rings, or that Rolex. Even Herc would have a hard time fencing jewelry that expensive. Goddamn Chinks, rubbing their wealth in the world’s face like, as if anybody who matters is impressed by a stainless steel Daytona. Scott may have been a shit stockbroker back in the day, but that was more because he has an issue with legal oversight. He’s good with money. Very good. And big shows of ostentatiousness, like Ma was given to, only get a man killed.

Obviously.

Chuck’s still looking at him though, a mixture of confusion and interest on his face.

Satisfied he’s thrown the little brat off his own game, moved Chuck onto his own playing board instead, Scott waves him in. “Come on then. If we’re going to talk about all the dirty incestuous sex you have with my brother, you might as well come inside. There are decent people who live in this neighborhood.”

Of course, Chuck follows.

Smug as anything.

Cause he thinks he’s getting what he wants.

Until they reach the den, an obnoxious thing decorated in some old world European style, where the previous owner of the place kept his cigars and expensive booze. But the current spread has nothing to do with either of those two things. Mostly.

“Charlie,” Herc says from one of the overstuffed armchairs, that pisswater beer he likes so much in hand, those blond boys he brought over perched on the arms of that chair. “Took you long enough. Thought for sure you’d sneak out straightaway.”

Chuck turns red. Almost instantly. It’s fascinating, really. “What the fuck are the Beckets doing here?”

“I told you I was going to the Shatterdome, didn’t I?”

“But you said you were meeting up with the Kaida-”

“You’ve been a naughty boy, Chuck, not listening to your daddy,” Herc says, and pats the blond on the arse, pushing him up. The younger Becket, gives Scott a wide smile, and Scott can’t help but smile back. He is adorable, this one, sturdy and handsome, and he gives Scott a flirty little wink as he sashays over. His older brother is a bit more reserved, not so much reluctant as he is calculating, and Scott can respect that. He doesn't know these two, and they don't know him. They were Herc's idea. Actually, Herc just showed up with them tonight and asked Scott if he didn't mind the interruption. 

"Why, you think Chuck is coming over now?" Scott asked, watching the two blond boys laugh their way into his house. "I know we talked about this, but..."

"Mine is the only dick he gets."

"You're a selfish bastard sometimes, Herc. You know that?"

Herc had just rolled his eyes. "I told the Beckets we'd get them a residency visa for their sis. Can you make that happen?"

"Sure. If I get to fuck Chuck when we're done."

And that had only gotten Scott pinned to the wall with a knife at his throat. "Boy's not for sale." 

"I wasn't trying to buy him, Herc." 

"So what part of _my dick only_ do you not understand?"

But now, Chuck won't stop whinging.

"But Daddy..."

Herc ignores the very unsubtle attempt at manipulation. “So here’s what we’re gonna do. You and I are going to sit here,” and Herc pats his lap for emphasis, “while your good friends Raleigh and Yancy give Scott a blowjob. Sound like a decent enough to you?”

Chuck swallows visibly. “Dad...”

“Get over there, Charlie,” Scott tells his nephew, kissing his cheek, “and take your punishment like a good little boy.”

It gets him a death glare. Not as effective as Herc’s, but then, Chuck is a sprog. “Dad says you’re not gay.”

“Yeah, but never said I wasn’t bi, did he now?”

Chuck’s growl of frustration is adorable.

Raleigh’s moans of pleasure, reverberating up Scott’s cock, is delicious. As are Yancy’s soft little directions, urging Raleigh on, his own tongue teasing at the underside of Scott’s balls. 

And if Herc makes Chuck lay back in his lap, back to chest, unzips the boy’s jeans and wraps a hand around his cute little dick, both of them watching Scott intently... well.

Who gives a fuck?

Scott wasn't so sure about this incest thing, but honestly, it seems quite lovely. If this is what family time means in the Hansen clan from now on, well, Scott can get behind that, all day long.


End file.
